Dear Monsieur Opera Ghost
by The Dark Waltz
Summary: A little boy writes to the Opera Ghost about his sister that is in desperate need of a teacher and love. When they become orphaned, no more letters. But then suddenly after a year is over the letters start up again but this time written by the sister.
1. January 1, 1874

The letter started like this:

_Dear Monsieur Opera Ghost, _

_Today is January 1, 1874. I thought I write to you a new year. _

_My parents do not know that I write you. I love my sister, they don't. I do. Maybe you will too?_

At this Erik smirked, he was quite curious at this letter. By its childish writing (and incorrect spelling) he knew it was written by a child, perhaps nine or ten.

_She is old, you see. Oh, not with white hair but with a scowl all the time. She tries to be nice, but its hard for her you see. I heard about you. I know you've hurt people but but well I don't know I just think you might be right for her. You love music and she always whistles. See you already like each other. She told me that once that music 'connects' people. I asked her what that means to 'connect' she said its like you like someone. _

_Today she was whistling loudly and father hit her. Why did he do that? She was just whistling. Not even singing. That lady in the newspapers, the pretty lady at the opera sang beautifully like an angel everyone said. But my sister sings like a pixie or a fairy. Which is better I wonder? _

_I'm running out of ink._

_I promise too right again soon. _

_ Your soon to be brother of raw, _

_ Pierre Jaques DeMarkes_

_Oh I forgot my sister's name is Pixie Lily DeMarkes. _

At the "of raw" part Erik had burst out laughing and when he started he couldn't stop. It felt wonderful to be smiling again. Actually he couldn't remember one time when he smiled in his past. Even when Christine was in his life. At her name in his mind he became grim again and tucked the letter into his desk drawer not thinking anything would come out of it.


	2. February 23, 1874

Erik followed through with living; it was not a privilege to him but a routine. It wasn't until the next letter came that he began to look forward to something better, no matter how small.

_Dear Monsieur O.G.,_

_Its shorter, sorry if you don't like it but last time I runned out of ink and I got hit because mother was saying I was wasted the ink, but I was not. Silly mothers I almost got caught and so that's why I haven't been able to write you. Oops, forgot to say what today is, it is Febuary 23, 1874. I turned nine yesterdays. What about you? How old are you? My sister is in her teens, I asked her what teens meant and she said almost being a grown up. I never want to grow up because when you grow white hair and mean eyebrows. _

_I remember I was goin to tell you that I learnded to whistle yesterdays. Pixie taught me shes my sister if you forgot. I can understand if you dids I mean I haven't witten in forever. _

_She needs someone to luv her terriby, I mean I luv her but its not the same I see other peoples holding hands and looking each other in the eyes and making funny noises when they look at each other that's not the same. She needs more, like a kiss on the head once in awhile or a wink, I try but I can't wink one eye it doesn't work for me. But when I kiss her cheek she smiles her sad little smile and then I tickle her. Promise me you will tickle her when you meet her because then you can hear her laugh. She has a laugh like little tiny belles. That chime. _

_I have to stop now._

_Wow I wrote a lot this time, well that's good it will make up for not writin for a long long long long time. _

_Bye,_

_Your truwly,_

_Your brother in raw,_

_Pierre _

Erik smiled as he finished the letter, and remembered how the first time he had finished the first letter how he laughed and then he remembered what had stopped him. Then and there he made a resolution, to never think of Christine again, thinking about the what ifs but look to the future. The future ahead of him just might be not so dark after all, with the two things in his desk there to put a smile on his face. And with that he rose from his chair, dusted off his organ (which hadn't been used since the occurrences) and began to play.


	3. Erik's Change

When Erik received the third letter, Madame Giry became suspicious but she didn't ask any questions knowing what Erik's reply to be. Yet still she was more curious than she'd ever been in her life of where the letter had come from. If it hadn't been for the way his eyes lit up every time he received a new one she might have shrugged it off, but it was just strangely relieving and yet still frustrating to find Erik almost smiling all the time. He even came back to teasing her like he used to way back when. Who could have ever effected such a change in Erik? It was astounding to say the least.

Erik for his part had been struck with epic of genius. He couldn't stop writing songs and it felt wonderful to be at his organ again. He even went about the habit of eating more, always just explaining it to himself that it was simply to keep his strength for his composing. But deep down he knew why he did not want to miss the letters from that curious little boy Pierre.

What was even more different about Erik was that his style of music had changed. Not over dramatically, for he still had his moods, but then a letter would come and inspiration would strike again. He pieces became lighter and yet they still held great meanings and would still bring tears to a person's eye but not precisely sad tears, as the months progressed and the letters continued coming. Letters telling of silly little frolicy games and whole hearted little sentiments, one's tears would turn to tears of bliss, happiness. Erik had often heard of the happiness children had brought but he never thought he would have such. How wrong he was. Yet there was still times when his temper would flare up like the time Pierre had spoken of his father hitting him and his sister, Erik would trace the tears stains with his fingers and then stomp over to the organ and pound on the keys. But then there were also the happy moments in the letters like the time when Pierre and his sister was sent out to collect apples in a nearby orchard, and they took their time spinning in circles and singing at the top of their lungs. Erik would smile at these memoirs and then almost with a skip in his step walk over to the organ and play a happy lively tune that would in its every facet picture children running through fields and laughing. He would smile and then wish fervently that he could see Pierre's smiling face. There were times too that he was curious about Pixie, who she was as a person, but often his mind would push away the curiosity telling himself that he'd most likely meet her or either of them for that matter. Then, he'd grow sad. It was an up and down see-saw of emotions for him and yet he was still alive and that's why his story will continue.


End file.
